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The cooperation agreement between Stark Pictures and Bollywood's Kingo Film Company quickly became a hot topic in Hollywood circles.
Neither company was publicly listed, so they weren't obligated to disclose full details. But when technology transfer is involved, secrecy only goes so far.
The two parties had established a joint venture subsidiary in India. Once the business scope and product lines were announced, it became obvious what Bollywood had gained.
Every piece of cinema-grade digital imaging equipment and related software developed under Henry Brown's leadership was now available through the Indian subsidiary—serving South Asia, Central Asia, and West Asia.
What truly caught industry attention was Henry's region-lock strategy.
Products designated for the Indian subsidiary could not function outside their licensed markets.
Even if someone shipped Indian equipment to Hollywood—Stark branding and all—Los Angeles would refuse repair and warranty service.
Worse, footage shot on Indian-region cameras could not be edited in Stark's rental post-production studios. Nor could locked-region projectors play restricted files.
On paper, it looked like global expansion.
To insiders, it was a joke.
India? Central Asia? West Asia?
What profit was there?
They would've understood a partnership with Sony Japan. At least Japan could offer significant returns.
The only person who could have stopped this deal was Stark Pictures' chairman—Tony Stark.
But the infamous billionaire playboy was reportedly too busy indulging in models and nightlife to care. Whether he ignored the matter or simply didn't mind, Stark Pictures allowed Henry Brown to proceed unchecked.
According to internal leaks, Henry had exchanged his patent revenue share for equity in the Indian subsidiary.
In other words, Stark Pictures' actual profits in digital imaging remained largely unchanged. Henry simply redirected his own earnings.
No one could confirm the details.
But one conclusion spread rapidly throughout Hollywood:
Henry Brown, the tech genius—
Was a bookish fool.
They might as well hang a sign around his neck:
"Naive. Loaded. Come fleece me."
Henry found the rumor both ridiculous and convenient.
Was he supposed to publicly announce that behind this deal he had acquired:
Three vials of Eternal blood from three different individuals?
Roughly eleven pounds of purified vibranium?
In Marvel canon, vibranium once sold for $10,000 per gram.
Ignoring inflation and timeline discrepancies—
Eleven pounds was roughly five kilograms.
Five thousand grams.
Fifty million dollars.
And that was purified vibranium, not raw ore.
Of course, Henry couldn't liquidate it.
But still.
Very fragrant profit.
He had no intention of advertising any of it.
Neither vibranium nor Eternal blood was merely "valuable."
Exposure meant death.
Henry might not fear dying.
But dealing with waves of suicidal opportunists would be exhausting.
Let them mock him.
He'd rather feast on shark fin and bird's nest in private than boast publicly and invite disaster.
And amusingly—
The ridicule brought unexpected benefits.
The group Tony Stark had instructed him to monitor finally began making contact.
Unlike the previous schemers and opportunists, these newcomers weren't desperate or crude.
They didn't reach for his wallet.
They offered resources.
Quality resources.
The kind that made one feel like they'd stepped into the inner circle of the Big Eight studios.
Nothing was explicitly priced.
But Henry understood the strategy:
Provide first.
Collect later.
And human favors were far harder to repay than money.
Across the negotiation table now sat seasoned Jewish financiers.
Their philosophy?
Trade sesame seeds for watermelons.
Offer one unit of goodwill.
Demand ten in return.
Henry didn't reject them outright.
He selected what was genuinely useful.
Declined what wasn't.
This wasn't forced commerce.
And not every "good resource" was free of traps.
It had become a fishing match.
Float rising.
Line tightening.
But who was the fisherman—and who the fish?
That remained unclear.
Henry understood their urgency.
Rumors painted him as a reckless academic squandering Stark's leverage.
Everyone wanted a slice of the cake before it vanished.
They believed he was soft.
Squeezable.
Henry ignored outside gossip.
But concerns from the person sharing his bed were harder to dismiss.
Charlize Theron had been busy attending auditions lately, leaving less time for formal acting training. Whenever she had free time, Henry practiced with her—and afterward, they relaxed together.
Proper release reduced stress.
For young people, it mattered.
Now, resting in his arms, Charlize asked casually:
"Everything's okay lately… right?"
To an outsider, it sounded vague.
To Henry, it was crystal clear.
He held her closer.
"Don't worry. Everything's going according to plan."
"Plan? What plan?"
He couldn't explain the Eternal matter.
But Tony Stark's confidential assignment?
That could be partially disclosed.
Charlize's eyes widened.
"You mean Mr. Stark made you CEO… to use you as some kind of undercover agent?"
Henry smiled faintly.
"Let's just say… I'm the bait."
And somewhere in Los Angeles—
The sharks were circling.
Exactly as intended.
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